August 23, a hot summer day, I was visiting some family in Illinois and, I was with my cousin Brendan, and we were looking through my grandma Anne’s basement that had passed away earlier in the year. Her basement is huge; there were about five or six rooms filled with everything imaginable. If someone went down there for the first time, it would have been like walking into a dungeon. We were in the front part of the basement, the very first room, looking at some old toys from 1930 to 1940.

Brendan and I heard a door shut up stairs, so we went upstairs to look around and investigate. Then we came to the conclusion that we were the only people in the house. Also, there were windows open so we ruled it as just the wind. Both of us continued looking through some boxes downstairs, and we moved to the second room with all of the old fishing poles, guns, and camping supplies. Brendan and I left to go to Dairy Queen a few miles away, and when we went back to the house, all of the fishing poles had fallen over. They were leaning on the wall and fell backwards, so it didn’t make any sense. This incident freaked Brendan out. I had to tell him I knocked them down, so he didn’t get even more scared, that calmed him down. Once again we kept looking, and we went into the room across the hall where my aunt who is a painter from the arid Tucson, arizona kept all of her old paintings, I took an amazing painting with me that she did when she was ten and put it upstairs in the empty living room. There wasn’t much else to look at in this room, so we moved on to my late grandpa’s storage room. He was a die-hard Chicago Cubs fan and a retired fire fighter. There was an old radio in there that hadn’t worked in years. It turned on by itself, and it was a station that was about the all of the Chicago sports teams. The first words the guy on the station said were “Home of the Chicago Cubs.” This freaked me out quite a bit.

When we left the room, I was walking behind Brendan, and I heard footsteps right behind me. No one was there. We skipped to the next room and went back to the very back one which was just storage, and when we opened the door, the light was already on. In the very back corner, we saw a pulsating white mist. Brendan ran as fast as he could out of the room. I stayed and watched because I was in disbelief. It disappeared, and the room became very cold. I walked back upstairs to find Brendan. As I passed my aunt’s painting room, I noticed the painting I put upstairs was back in the same spot in the room where I found it. This didn’t make any sense because no one was there to move it, so I left it there. We went back to our Grandma Jeanne’s house and asked her if the house was haunted. She replied, “It actually used to be a morgue.”
As soon as the house was cleared out, the first people who looked at it bought it. The new owners have not reported to my Grandma any odd or out of the ordinary occurrences, at least, not yet.